The Book of Raziel
by biscutpoo
Summary: Pre CoFA. While Clary and Jace develop their new found relationship, demonic forces stir, searching for the Book of Raziel, a mythical book said to contain all the runes ever created by the Maker's hand. In order to keep the power of angels out of the wrong hands, Clary and the other Shadowhunters must find it first. Even if their quest takes them into the depths of hell.
1. Birthdays

Is this where I can put an author's note? o.O kind of new at this...uh...hi! A few warnings for you who are going to read this story: 1) I'm a horrible updater. absolutely horrible. so its very likely this story will not be finished for a VERY long time. 2) I'm a constant editer...so if I'm able to...I'll probably go back and change chapters multiple times.

This is my first Mortal Instruments Fanfic, but I absolutely love this series and I can't wait for the movie. (Jamie's not a bad Jace, peoples! I watched some of his other stuff and he seems to be a good actor.)

The Book of Raziel- in mythology, Raziel was the angel that stood at God's side and therefore heard everything that was discussed (for this reason his name means "God's secrets") and wrote all of this down in a book, which he later gave to Adam and Eve after their banishment from paradise so that they might be able to learn more about their God.

Full Summary: While Clary and Jace develop their newfound relationship, Demonic forces stir, searching for the Book of Raziel, a mythical book said to contain all the runes ever created by the Maker's hand. In order to keep the power of angels out of the wrong hands, Clary and the others must find it first. "The Book of Raziel is a mundane myth, a story!" "But Jace," said Clary, "All the stories are true."

* * *

**The Book of Raziel**

**Part One: God's Secrets**

"But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it; for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die." -Genesis 2:17

**Chapter 1: Birthdays**

It wasn't the most romantic of first dates, Clary thought, but it was certainly memorable.

They'd started the morning with a simple breakfast at Taki's which had escalated from eggs and sausage to a city-wide demon hunt that ended with Clary standing knee deep in muddy sewage water, the top half of her body covered in demon guts, while Jace laughed at the expression on her face.

So needless to say by the time the two of them trudged back to the Manhattan Institute late in the afternoon (Clary looking like a demon had thrown up on her—one kind of had—and Jace who'd had one of his nicer jackets devoured in the struggle), neither one of them was in a particularly good mood.

Still, while the old elevator creaked on its way up, Clary let Jace hold her against the wall and kiss her passionately.

He pulled away when the door wheezed open, grinning, a sparkle lighting up his golden eyes and Clary instantly missed the pressure of his body on hers.

Tossing her tangled hair out behind her, Clary grimaced. "Next time, we're going to see a movie."

Jace laughed. "Welcome to the world of Shadowhunters," He said, his hand still around her waist.

Before he could kiss her again though, Isabelle turned the corner. She was dressed in a dark blue strapless dress that ended just above her knees exposing bare skin littered with white scars, her dark hair was loose falling in luscious curls down her back, and her pristine heels clacked on the marble floors. One of her hands was on her hips and she looked annoyed.

"Where have you lovebirds been?" snapped Isabelle, running one critical eye over Clary's disheveled appearance.

"It's a long story," supplied Jace.

Isabelle ignored him. "Clary, you're going to be late for dinner tonight," She said.

"Dinner?"

Isabelle glared at Jace. "Didn't you tell her?"

Jace shrugged. "It didn't matter to me," he said.

Isabelle snorted. "We're having dinner to celebrate Jace's birthday tonight."

Clary whirled on Jace, her mouth open in furious surprise. "You didn't tell me it was your birthday," She accused.

Unperturbed, Jace shrugged.

Isabelle snatched Clary's arm and proceeded to drag her down the hall. "You can be mad at him later, right now we have to make you look slightly presentable. And you," She screamed to a bemused Jace, "Have the decency to put on a suit!" Without waiting for a retort, she dragged a reluctant Clary away.

* * *

Demons with razor sharp teeth and nauseating breath she could handle, Clary mused, as she stumbled her way slowly across the floor, but heels, God help her she'd rather fight a horde of demons.

The Lightwoods were already seated at a table tucked away in a secluded corner of the fancy restaurant whose floor Clary was currently tripping on. When they saw her and Isabelle approaching, Maryse waved and Isabelle waved back, pushing Clary to walk faster.

Alec looked surprisingly handsome in a suit, his hair glossy in the light while Magnus sat next to him, looking extremely out of place in brilliant glitter. As she approached, Magnus leaned down to whisper something in Alec's ear and Alec laughed.

Jace, looking bored, was fiddling with the napkin cloth in his hands, but stood up when Clary approached. He looked surprised. "You…don't look anything like yourself." He said.

Clary hit him.

"Nonsense," said Isabelle. "I just brought out some of her natural beauty." She sat next to her mother and immediately picked up a menu.

"Clary, so nice of you to come." Maryse said, ushering Clary into the seat next to Jace, who was still staring at her hungrily.

Frowning, Clary caught a glimpse of her reflection in the silverware. She really did look amazing. Isabelle had gone crazy with the makeup. Glittery eye-shadow and dark eyeliner made her eyes look mysteriously sexy, her red hair hung loosely down her back in soft curls and the lipstick emphasized the curviness of her lips. She was wearing a loose red dress with folds made of fabric like tissue paper so that every time she spun, the skirt would billow out around her like feathery wings.

Isabelle winked at her and mouthed what looked like "head-over-heels enchanted" cocking her head at Jace who still seemed stunned.

Alec coughed and nudged Jace with his foot.

"Let's order, shall we?" Isabelle said. "I'm starved."

After Jace had gotten over his initial surprise at Clary's appearance, dinner passed relatively quickly.

The Lightwoods were kind enough, including Clary in their conversations. Robert announced he was going to be headed to Idris for a few days. After Valentine's death, demon activity had been incredibly irregular throughout the world and the Clave was calling a meeting to discuss it.

"This is kind of nice," Clary said after the entrees had been delivered. "Do you do this every year?"

Jace shook his head. "It's my eighteenth," he said, "After this point, I'm an official adult and all that." Clary nodded, watching him poke at the pasta on his plate absentmindedly.

"You don't like this?" She asked.

Jace frowned. "Let's just say, I'd rather spend my birthdays fighting demons."

Clary snorted. "I'm still mad that you never told me it was your birthday."

"And why is that?"

"I would have gotten you a present," said Clary.

Jace's eyes softened. "I don't need a present from you, Clary."

"But eighteen is a big year…"

"I just want to get this dinner over with so we can go do something _way _more fun."

Clary raised one eyebrow. "You want to go demon hunting on your birthday?"

Jace grinned. "Or we could go to Pandemonium. Clubs and demons in the same place, what could be better?"

Clary pursed her lips and then using the trick that Isabelle had taught her leaned in and placed her hand on Jace's thigh. She was rewarded by the sound of his breath catching in his throat.

"I have an idea for a present." She said, knowing her mother was going to kill her for what she was about to say.

Jace gulped. "Yeah?"

"Mmmhmm," Clary's hand climbed a little higher. "I was thinking I'd spend the night at the Institute, just this once."

Jace swallowed with some difficulty. "Isn't your mom going to kill you for this?" He asked. It was true. Since their return from Idris, Jocelyn had strictly forbidden her daughter from sleeping in the same building as her boyfriend.

"I'll deal with her later," said Clary. "I'll tell her it was your birthday and I fell asleep accidentally."

"She's gonna freak." Jace observed. Their faces were almost touching now.

"I—" But what Clary had been about to say was drowned out by a scream.

Jace jerked away from her so fast, Clary didn't see him move, but suddenly he was behind her, his seraph blade drawn.

A demon was crawling towards them across an overturned table. It moved on all fours like a twisted dog and its face was only a circular mouth full of rows of sharp teeth. A long snake-like tongue scented the air in front of it. It had a long whip-like tail lined with nasty spikes that lashed back and forth.

Behind the creature, more of its kind swarmed onto the tables, gnashing their teeth and hissing in demonic tongues.

Jace laughed. "Now this is a birthday present," he said, and ignoring Maryse's shouts, launched himself into the fray.

Clary drew the seraph blade she kept in a sheath on her thigh. "Puriel," she said, and hearing its name, the blade extended.

Beside her, Isabelle took a sip of her coke and drew her whip, looking annoyed. Blue fire was dancing at the tips of Magnus's fingers.

They each took one demon (Jace took three) and finished them off with swift efficiency. The restaurant was a mess though and the mundanes had fled, leaving their plates scattered across the floors.

Calmly, Magnus straightened the hem of his tuxedo. "Well the one benefit of dating you, darling," he said to Alec, "is that not even dinner is boring."

* * *

Clary was curled up on Jace's bed, breathing in the smell of his sheets when Jace emerged from the bathroom, his hair wet.

Moonlight from the open window caught the drops of water in his hair and lit them up, making Jace look like an angel.

Clary smiled as Jace sat down on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair.

"Best birthday present ever." He mumbled.

Clary turned and then they were kissing each other in the moonlight. His hands cupped her cheeks and Clary was reminded of the first time Jace had ever kissed her: in the greenhouse, under a similar moonlight, surrounded by the falling petals of flowers.

She was breathless when he pulled away and drew the covers over them.

Sighing contently, Clary allowed Jace to wrap his arms around her and closed her eyes, reveling in the perfectness of the moment.

And there, safe in his arms, she fell asleep.


	2. Premonitions of Fire

Hi, I reread the first chapter I posted and its actually kind of embarrassing...so I have to apologize, its not my best work because I was in a rush to publish before I lost my nerve...this whole project is a little rushed actually. And I also have to apologize for formatting errors...its a lot harder than I thought it would be to make formatting work out..so if line breaks are missing where they should be there... :c

* * *

**Chapter 2: Premonitions of Fire**

_The landscape around her was dead and barren, the dirt beneath her hands dark and black. Withered skeletons of trees dotted the landscape at random intervals into the distance. A hill rose ahead of her and embedded in the dirt were broken shards of bone. Half of a buried human skull leered at her from the earth and Clary bit back a scream when her hand almost brushed it._

_Stuck atop the hill was a white wooden cross and hanging crucified upon that cross was Jace. His head hung limply on his bare chest; dirty blonde locks of hair obscuring his face. His body was littered with cuts and bruises; from this distance, Clary could just make out the spidery black Marks across his chest that climbed up onto his arms like vines. Two swirling Marks on either side of his neck pulsed like they were choking him. Jace's arms were pinned to the cross by twin seraph blades, which gleamed ominously in the darkness. Blood dripped from the puncture wounds and down his arms, leaving red trails that stood out starkly against his pale skin._

_And Jace had wings._

_Wings like the angel, Raziel, had had: majestic and powerful, except Jace's wings were soiled by blood until they looked black and hung limply from his slight form._

_Clary screamed._

_And above them the red sky roiled and turned like a demonic storm…_

Clary jolted awake, her heart pounding in her chest. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness and she tried to slow her breathing by focusing on the presence of Jace beside her, still sound asleep.

Shivering, she drew the blankets closer around herself and tried desperately to force the images of her dream from her mind. A beam of moonlight from the window fell onto the floor at her feet and she could hear the faint sound of New York City in the distance.

What was that? Clary wondered, shuddering, concentrating on the sound of Jace's breathing and the heat of his body.

She hadn't had a dream that vivid since before Valentine's death. _These are not the first dreams I have showed you._ The words of the angel, Ithuriel, rose unbidden into her mind. The dreams she'd had before: of twin angels fighting each other, of dancing with Jace and the mermaid fountain, those had been dreams sent by Ithuriel, but now the angel was dead. So who had sent this dream?

Clary closed her eyes and unwillingly pictured the image of Jace crucified.

_Something has changed_, She thought. _Something horrible is going to happen._

* * *

When Clary snuck back into Luke's house early the next morning, she found him making breakfast in the kitchen.

He raised one eyebrow at her appearance, dressed in Jace's too big sweatshirt (not her fault that her own clothes had been melted by demon's blood) and said, "Your mother's going to kill you" but otherwise told her to help herself to some eggs.

True enough, when Jocelyn finally made her way down the stairs, Clary got the biggest, loudest, most extravagant lecture of all time.

And no retorts of "we didn't do anything mom, I swear," or "It was an accident, I fell asleep," or "it was his birthday, for heaven's sake" made any dent in Jocelyn's tirade.

It wasn't until Maia came down the stairs dragging a bemused Simon behind her that Jocelyn settled down.

"Where were you?" Clary asked, bitterly. (She had been grounded until the end of time).

"Making out upstairs," said Maia bluntly.

Simon at least had the decency to look sheepish.

Maia had been spending more and more time at Luke's house since their return from Idris. Mostly she tended to help run the bookstore while Luke was preoccupied with Jocelyn. Simon and Maia were dating now, Clary supposed, although how that had happened she wasn't entirely sure (and neither was Simon). But there were much worse girls that Simon could find so Clary didn't particularly mind. It did mean that Simon spent more time at Luke's house than he ever did before.

After breakfast, Clary took to perusing the shelves of Luke's bookstore in search of any interesting reads while Jocelyn and Luke "went out."

Clary was happy really, that her mother had finally found someone she could love and be happy with, but it was still a little weird how much her mother and Luke acted like teenagers in love sometimes. Jocelyn, who had always struck Clary as a relatively down to earth person, had taken to staring out windows while Luke was out in the city, absentmindedly twirling the necklace that he'd given her between her fingers. The chain was gold and hanging from the end was a wolf charm, its eyes a sky blue gem, its head lifted adoringly upwards towards Jocelyn's face.

While she was running her hands absentmindedly down the old spines, Simon stopped by on his way out the door. "I'm headed to band practice," he called out, "with Eric and the others…wanna come, Clary?"

Clary paused, her hand halfway between two really old cookbooks. "I'm grounded," she said, "didn't you hear?"

Simon laughed. "Maia's managing the shop, Luke and your mother aren't due home for a while, and I'm considerably more responsible than Jace." He said. "What's the worse that could happen?"

"Good point," said Clary, grabbing her green coat from the peg by the door. "I'm bored out of my mind, anyways."

* * *

Jace grunted as the blunt end of Alec's spear slammed into his side, knocking him off balance and throwing his returning jab off two inches. The two of them were sparring in the training room of the Institute with wooden rods.

Mercilessly, Alec lunged forwards, seizing the moment to deliver another blow that would have swept Jace's feet out from under him, but Jace was faster. Abandoning his weapon, he did a quick back handspring, managing to land a kick along the way.

While Alec was distracted, Jace snatched the wooden spear from the ground and brought the pointier tip to Alec's throat. He felt a similar pressure on his own throat and smirked. "Alright," he said breathlessly, "I'll concede the point. You got lucky."

Alec grinned and abandoning his weapon went for one of the towels hanging on the wall. "A little slow today?" He teased.

"Don't let it go to your head," Jace replied cheekily. "It was a draw."

"Playing nice boys?" A voice asked. It was Maryse, leaning against the doorway to the training room, having just sent Robert off through the Portal to Idris. She was dressed in the classic black Shadowhunting gear, her heeled boots clicking on the floors.

"Something up?" Alec asked.

"We found the dead body of one of our own in Midtown this morning," replied Maryse. "I'm heading out with a few of the other Shadowhunters to check it out."

Alec winced. "Someone we know?" He asked.

"No," Maryse replied, "But he was found drained of blood, like the others." I'm asking you two and Isabelle to watch over the Institute while we're away."

"Sure," Alec said, rolling his shoulders. Maryse gave her eldest son a nod, her eyes softer than normal. Jace thought the look seemed a little sad, before she turned on her heels and walked briskly down the halls.

"That's the third dead Shadowhunter this week," said Alec, solemnly. "All drained of blood."

"Seems like a stupid thing to do so soon after the new Accords," Jace sighed. "The Clave will be out for vampire blood."

"It's not going to sit well, that's for sure," said Alec, "but the head of the vampire clan in Manhattan denies any connection to the deaths."

Jace shrugged. "Raphael wouldn't have motive at any rate," he said. "Drinking Shadowhunter blood isn't worth the risks."

"Then what do you think is really going on?" Alec asked.

Jace frowned. "I think someone's targeting Shadowhunters and trying to pin the blame on the vampires. Maybe someone who's not a fan of the new Accords, someone who still supports my—" Jace stopped abruptly. He had been about to say "my father." "—Valentine," he corrected. He never called Valentine "father" if he could help it.

Alec looked at Jace sideways, as if he sensed the near slip. "Not the best time to be a Shadowhunter in New York City…" he joked.

"No," said Jace solemnly, "It's not."

* * *

Simon's band was dreadful and after a couple of hours hearing them wail away, Clary was more than a little relieved when they called it quits.

Together, she and Simon made their way out of Eric's garage and headed back to Luke's.

"So…" said Simon, his tone light and casual. "How's Shadowhunter training going?"

Clary made a face. Shadowhunter training, as it turned out, was not as glamorous as she'd imagined. It involved learning to do flips from high beams in the training room (she screamed more than she flipped), getting bruises from her sparring matches with Jace, and spending hours in the library reading ancient books on history and foreign languages.

Simon saw the expression on her face and laughed. "Not everything you thought it would be, huh?"

"No," said Clary, "Not really." Before she could launch into a huge tirade on the history of the Roman Empire (a topic that Jace had drilled into her head with what Clary believed to be twisted pleasure) something golden caught her eye.

It was just a flash of color really, nothing that would normally catch her attention, but she had been absentmindedly scouring the streets as they walked and this little flash of color had sparked her memory. It was the smallest flash of white-gold, the back of someone's head as they turned the corner, but for some reason that color reminded her of someone…

"Clary? Clary!"

"What?" Surprised, Clary turned just in time to stop herself from walking into a parking meter. Simon was looking at her with an expression that was half concern and half amusement.

"Sorry," Clary said, hastily stepping around the meter and following after Simon. "What were you saying?"

"You were about to bore me with the details of Caesar's campaign in Gaul," quipped Simon, "And I was about to ask you what you thought of 'Millenium Lint' as a band name."

"Oh right," said Clary, playing along. "Caesar was a pompous jerk. A politician really, so what did you expect? And I'm pretty sure naming a band after the fuzzy stuff left over in driers isn't the best publicity move."

"What was it that you were looking at?" Simon asked, cocking his head.

"It was nothing," dismissed Clary. "I just thought I saw someone I recognized…"

* * *

Maryse returned to the Institute almost two hours later, looking tired. Behind her trailed a few other Shadowhunters that Isabelle recognized vaguely, all dressed in battle gear. There were two new faces however that she hadn't expected.

One of them was a young boy, about Alec's age, with the same dark hair and the muscled build common among Shadowhunters. He had pale green eyes, which reminded Isabelle oddly of a shallow pond in the height of spring. Behind him was an older man in his early forties and there was such a resemblance between the two—the same chiseled chin, dark hair, and strong stride—that Isabelle assumed they were related.

"Isabelle," said Maryse. "This is lsaac Riverdale and his son Jacob. They're joining the New York Institute." Maryse turned to the new Shadowhunters. "This is my daughter, Isabelle."

Jacob smiled, a little tentatively and Isabelle noticed there was a tiny mole above his lip that seemed strangely endearing.

"Where are your brothers?" Maryse asked, breaking Isabelle out of her reverie.

"Alec's around somewhere," she said, "I don't know about Jace though. He got a phone call earlier and then shot out of here like lightning."

Maryse seemed to be only half paying attention. She nodded absentmindedly and gestured for the Riverdales to follow, as she led them down the hall. Jacob brushed past Isabelle on his way, the tips of his fingers met hers, sending a pleasant tingle up her arm. Just as soon as it came though, the strange sensation was gone, leaving Isabelle staring after her mother and the Riverdales with an odd look on her face.

* * *

Simon walked Clary a few blocks from Luke's and then said good-bye, heading in the opposite direction back to his own home. While he walked, without even meaning to, one hand reached up to scratch his forehead where he knew the Mark of Cain was branded into his skin.

The wind was blowing harshly, but Simon didn't feel particularly cold. He hadn't felt cold or heat since he'd become a vampire, but he still wrapped his jacket closer around his body in an almost nostalgic gesture even if it was no longer needed.

Casually Simon looked down at his hands where the blue veins stood out against his pale skin. It had been a while since he'd fed and Simon supposed when he got home he'd have to dig up one of the glass bottles of blood he kept hidden in his mini fridge.

Drinking blood had gotten no easier over time. He'd always thought that eventually it would stop tasting like blood and start tasting…pleasant, but he'd had no such luck. The blood he drank was very much…blood. It tasted metallic and salty and left a nasty aftertaste in his mouth that wouldn't go away no matter how hard he tried. It was worse the longer the blood had been left in his fridge. Old blood, dead blood, had an undercurrent of rot that made him want to gag. Weren't vampires supposed to enjoy blood? What did that make him then? Simon thought. If drinking blood made him want to be sick?

Perhaps it was the thought of blood that started it, because the next thing Simon knew, he smelled it. He smelled blood on the air, an overpowering, awful, tempting, scent. Human blood, Simon thought, fresh, human blood, with just the smallest hint of sunshine…

Simon froze, his eyes wide in surprise. It wasn't entirely human blood that he smelled then, the smallest hint of sunshine gave it away—this was Shadowhunter blood. And there was way too much of it.

Without pausing, Simon took off in a sprint, following the scent on the wind, dodging and ducking around trashcans and parking meters. Before long he found himself standing at the mouth of an alley.

There was a dead body lying slumped against the alley wall. Simon recognized the dark gear that the man was wearing, he had seen Alec and Jace in that outfit often enough. Swallowing hard, Simon edged towards the man, breathing through his mouth to keep out the overwhelming scent of blood. There was another smell, an overly sweet, rotting, smell that Simon recognized as the smell of demons.

The man's throat had been ripped out, viciously and there were huge gouges in his neck that resembled large claw marks. The entirety of his right arm had been ripped off and tossed carelessly aside like the broken pieces of a doll.

Slowly, Simon looked up, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise in this throat, and saw the bloody smears on the wall of the alley.

It was a rune, not any rune he'd ever seen before (not that he was an expert on runes) written in the dead Nephilim's own blood.

Belatedly, Simon realized he should call someone…the police maybe or Clary…no, he couldn't call Clary, he couldn't let her see this…this…mess. With shaking fingers, Simon reached for the cellphone in his pocket and scrolled through the contacts until he found the number.

"Hello?"

"It's Simon," said Simon and he was pleasantly surprised to hear that his own voice, although distant sounding, did not waver. "There's a problem…I really think you should come."

Above him, the troubled clouds let loose their burdens and sheets of rain descended upon him. Simon shivered once and it had nothing to do with the cold.

* * *

It started to rain shortly after Clary parted from Simon and made her way home. The chill of deep autumn hung heavy in the air and the last of the leaves rattled on their empty branches like eerie bones on a skeleton.

Her mother, Jocelyn, was sitting at the kitchen table, absentmindedly running through the mail. Her red hair was up in a loose bun at the back of her head and as Clary watched, one strand fell free and swayed slightly in the air.

"Clary!" Jocelyn said, when she heard the door close. "Where have you been?"

Clary bristled. "Out," she retorted, "with _Simon_ if that makes you feel any better."

Jocelyn sighed. "Clary, I—"

"Why do you hate Jace?" Clary said quickly, the words spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Jocelyn looked surprised. "I don't hate Jace, Clary."

"No?" She asked. "Then why don't you ever let me spend the night at the Institute? You're never happy when I invite him over for dinner, you don't want me to spend time with him if you can help it, you don't talk to him directly." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Mom, Jace isn't anything like Valentine." She said.

Jocelyn stiffened at the name, but seeing the look on her daughter's face, softened. "I know, Clary, and I'm sorry if I've been…unreasonable. I spent 16 years of my life running away from Valentine. I used to imagine seeing him on every street corner, memories of him at every turn. I guess even after he's—dead—I…I still see him, sometimes, everywhere I look." Her mother suddenly seemed so much older, so much more vulnerable. "It's not fair for me to blame Jace for something he couldn't control," said Jocelyn. "Does he make you happy?" She asked.

"Yes," whispered Clary. "The happiest I've ever been."

Jocelyn smiled softly. "I remember being young and in love. It tends to blind you…to faults."

"Jace is a good person," Clary retorted. "I know that."

Jocelyn's eyes traveled beyond Clary and seemed to focus on an invisible point there. "Clary," she said at last. "I want you to know this. If he didn't make you happy, if it wasn't so obviously clear that he loved you, I wouldn't have tolerated him at all." Jocelyn stood up and made to head towards the back of the house. "You're not grounded anymore," She said, a playful smile on her face, "but this doesn't mean all the rules have changed. At least leave a note if you're going to go running off on your own."

"Alright," Clary agreed. Her mother picked up the remaining letters and made her way upstairs.

Clary smiled and was just about to grab a glass of water from the sink when the doorbell ran. Curious, she approached the entrance way, one hand on the dagger she kept belted to her thigh, and opened the door.

It was pouring outside and standing on the doorstep was Jace. He was soaking wet, his golden hair clinging to his head and dripping water into his eyes. He was dressed in Shadowhunter fighting gear, but even those had been drenched and beneath his thick leather jacket, Clary could see a wet black t-shirt, which clung to his body.

"Jace," she began, surprised, "what are you—" She broke off as Jace suddenly closed the distance between them. He was kissing her, hungrily, desperately, ferociously. Abruptly, he broke off and hugged her tightly. Clary could smell the scent of him and he smelled vaguely of blood. "Jace, what's going on?"

"You're alright," he said, ignoring her words. "I thought something might have happened…because it was so close by…"

"What—" demanded Clary, pulling away, "—is going on?"

Jace didn't explain. Instead, he turned and bolted back out into the rain, a blurry black shadow in the silver downpour.

"Jace!" Clary shouted, but he didn't turn around. Frustrated, she shouted up the stairs a quick "I'm going out" before sprinting after him.

It was hard enough to keep up with Jace under normal circumstances, but the downpour made it even harder for Clary to follow his moving shape in the false darkness. They ran for a few blocks before Jace ducked into an alleyway and Clary followed breathlessly.

Simon was there and he seemed angry. "Where the heck did you run off to?" He demanded of Jace, failing to notice Clary for the moment. "You just saw this…and ran!"

"Simon?" Clary asked. "What's going on?"

Simon's eyes widened in surprise. "Clary, what are you—"

But she didn't hear the rest of Simon's words because Clary had suddenly realized what else was in the alley with them.

Smeared across the alley wall was a rune, _a rune she recognized_, Clary thought with sudden dread. The downpour had already begun to erase the finer lines but Clary saw a sudden image in her mind of that rune in all its glory and its meaning floated into her consciousness the way it hadn't before.

"What does it say?" Jace asked. His voice was tight, Clary noticed.

Her hand went automatically to her forearm and rolled up the sleeve exposing bare flesh marred by a single faded rune. The rune on the wall was the same as the one on her arm, the same rune that her mother had drawn on her in a dream, the same rune that had protected her from the Raum demons. It had faded, Clary realized, around the same time Ithuriel had died. _Maybe it wasn't my mother who drew that rune on me at all…_

"What does it mean?" Jace asked, again.

And Clary felt her voice speak almost of its own volition. "It's the Mark of the Angel," she said. "It's the Mark of Raziel."


	3. War on Heaven

**Chapter 3: War on Heaven**

"Why would the Angel's Mark be drawn over the dead body of a Shadowhunter?" Clary asked, drawing the towel closer around herself. They were, all of them minus Simon, sitting in the library of the Institute. Both her and Jace were still wet, not yet having changed clothing. Alec lodged in an armchair, his face solemn, while Isabelle fiddled with her long hair.

By now, the crime scene was certain to be swarming with the Shadowhunters of the New York Institute, examining every inch of the alleyway, lifting the mangled body of their fallen comrade. For in the chaos, Clary had not noticed the face of the dead Nephilim until afterwards; it was someone she recognized from the New York Institute, although she had no name to plant with the face. She'd seen him in the training room a few times, had passed him in the hallways, he'd even smiled at her once.

"It's a call to arms," said Jace, his golden eyes as hard as flint. In their depths, Clary saw the burning fire of angels.

Alec sighed. "They're sending us a message," he explained.

"Someone's waging war on Heaven, that's the message," snarled Jace. He was pacing up and down angrily, his limbs coiled with bountiful energy.

"Oh, sit down!" Isabelle shouted, annoyed, "You're giving me a headache."

Jace shot her a look and continued pacing anyways. So Clary quickly intervened before Isabelle's twitching fingers could find the golden whip curled around her arm and use it. "There were demon energies all over the alleyway," she said. "Do you think—"

"It couldn't have been a demon," interrupted Jace.

"What?"

"There's no way a demon could draw a rune, let alone an angel's rune. There must have been a Shadowhunter involved."

An image of a black haired, dark eyed, young man floated into her mind. _Clary, we have a connection_, he'd said, _I feel like you were someone I'd always been waiting for._ Clary shuddered as a chill crept up her spine as if she could still feel the ghost of his touch on her cheek. The last time she'd heard that voice, felt those hands, he'd been choking the life out of Alec over Hodge's dead body. "You don't think it could have been Jon—Sebastian do you?" She asked softly.

Jace stiffened, his muscles tensing like a coiled spring. "No," said Isabelle briskly. "He's dead, Jace killed him, he's…very dead." But Jace was looking away from the others, his expression pained.

"Then what?" Clary asked softly, looking at her feet and the damp hem of her torn jeans. She couldn't drive the ghost of her brother's memory from her mind. Suddenly she remembered that glint of white gold that she'd seen on the streets with Simon. And now she recalled what it'd reminded her of: Valentine. It was the exact hair color of Valentine…

Alec sighed and ran one hand through his brown hair. He looked older all of sudden, more mature, when he did that. "Either way its out of our hands. With this death the Clave won't sit back anymore. They'll send reinforcements, conduct an investigation, the funeral's next week—"

Jace exploded, the calm fury that had built up in his body throughout the conversation, burst out in a sudden rush. He turned tail and prowled out of the room, slamming the door a little too loudly behind him. Clary looked after him in stunned silence.

"You'll have to excuse him," said Isabelle sadly, after Alec had chased after Jace. "Jace was close to Kalim. It's hitting him harder than the rest of us."

Clary nodded wordlessly as Isabelle made to follow her brother, leaving Clary alone in the empty library with the ghost of Sebastian hovering in her mind. Without hesitation she picked up her phone and dialed Simon's number. He picked up on the third ring. "Hey," said Clary. "There's something I want to investigate. It's a totally-off-the-record, likely-to-be-dangerous kind of mission. You in?"

* * *

Isabelle found the person she least wanted to see, Jacob Riverdale, perched on a counter in the kitchen. He was wearing a tight fitting gray t-shirt that left his marked arms exposed and he had a copy of the Shadowhunter's Codex balanced in his left hand, his right hand gripped firmly around a glass of orange juice. Jacob looked up when she approached, one eyebrow raised curiously as he took in her slightly disheveled appearance. "Hey," he said. He sounded shy, like the kind of boy Isabelle normally overlooked in every other scenario.

"Have you seen my brother?" She demanded impatiently, trying to ignore the way a faded iratze curled perfectly around his bicep.

"Alec?" Jacob asked, frowning. "No, I don't think I did."

Isabelle nodded, about to whirl around and continue searching when her eyes fell on a curious looking dagger belted to Jacob's side. "Is that…?"

Jacob followed her gaze to the weapon at his hip. "Oh this?" He said, putting down his book and pulling the dagger out of its sheath. "It's an old family heirloom. On the surface it looks like a normal dagger." He spun the weapon expertly in his left hand. "But at the push of a button," immediately the dagger burst apart, the two edges of the blade opening like the petals of a deadly flower to form three sharp and extremely lethal looking blades. "Voila! Three daggers for the price of one. Pretty useful when you're trying to trap a demon's claws."

Isabelle whistled. "That looks impressive," she said, her fingers twitched, eager to run her hands along the glossy hilt.

Jacob saw the expression in her eyes and held out the dagger to her, handle first, the blade now retracted into a single point. "Go ahead," he said. "Give it a whirl."

She accepted the dagger, twirling it in her hands to get a feel for its weight. It was heavier than it looked, but she supposed that was because of the extra blade mechanism hidden within. At a touch of her hand, the blade split into its three components. There were runes along the handle that she recognized: runes for speed, swiftness, endurance, even runes that repelled rust.

"Impressive isn't it?" Jacob said, his eyes bright with excitement. "The right one's made of silver, the left one iron, and the middle one of blessed metal."

Isabelle grinned. "You really do have three blades in one." She remarked, feeling the indented lines of the runes in the metal. "Are you any good?" She teased, tossing the blade back. Jacob caught it in his hands as easily as if she'd tossed him a ball.

"Only one way to find out," he replied, cheekily.

* * *

Jace only made it halfway to his room before Alec caught up to him. They stood, confrontationally, in the silent halls. The days were getting shorter and shorter into fall and outside the sun was already setting, casting long, dark, shadows through the stained glass windows into the Institute. Alec said nothing while Jace looked adamantly into the darkness at the end of the hallway, his back to him. There had been a time when Jace would have worked his grief and frustrations off by sparring with Alec. A time when (if he turned to anyone at all) Jace turned to Alec first and Alec hardest. They'd both been younger in those days and although Alec would wake up the next day thoroughly sore and bruised, he'd at least have the pleasure of knowing that no one but he could lighten Jace's mood.

Those days were long over.

"I know you'd rather not talk about this," said Alec. "And maybe I would have let you mope before, but things are different now." Although what exactly had changed, Alec couldn't quite put his finger on. Maybe it was he who had changed, grown, and not Jace.

To his great surprise, Jace spoke, and it wasn't the sassy, sarcastic, jab that normally hid deep inner turmoil (by the Angel if Jace wasn't a textbook example of a Byronic Hero) but a soft confession. "Kalim was one of the only ones who…cared after my father died."

"I know," said Alec and he did know. In the years after Jace had arrived at the Institute, a cold, scarred, boy, barely into his double digits, Kalim had been one of the only adults, besides Maryse, Robert, and Hodge, who'd paid Jace any attention at all. It was hard to say that the elder Shadowhunter had been a particularly good influence. Mostly he took Jace out to clubs and let him tag along on the occasional demon hunt. Kalim wasn't as much a brother as a sort of badass older cousin who dropped by from time to time to impart particularly rebellious knowledge. Still Jace hadn't known much of any affection in those days.

Alec turned his head and looked out the window at the darkening streets of the city. "What do you say we go hunting?" He asked. "Just the two of us, it's been a while."

He thought he might have been able to hear the smallest of smiles in Jace's voice. "Demon hunting?"

"Well, I know it's what you really want to do right now…and I reckon you'll go try to get yourself killed whether I come with you or not. So I figure, better to have back-up."

"Alright," Jace turned and the red of the setting sun cast a fiery streak across his face, illuminating his golden hair in a hellish glow. "But," he added, stepping forwards from the half-shadows. The red light faded into the background, leaving Jace looking tired but golden. "Whoever kills the least demons has to do the other's chores for a week."

Alec thought maybe he was being too nice. "Deal."

* * *

Simon met Clary on the steps of the Institute and together they walked in a general direction down the street while Clary filled him in on the details of her latest suicidal escapade. "That's ridiculous, absolutely not," said Simon once she'd paused to draw breath. "That sounds even stupider than your let's-all-run-into-a-vampire-coven's-den plan."

Clary frowned. "I seem to recall that that particular idea of mine saved your life."

"And I'm incredibly grateful," said Simon dryly, "but this new plan of yours seems more farfetched than normal. I mean…" He glanced quickly around to make sure no one was following them and dropped his voice to a whisper. "You're sure you didn't imagine seeing Jonathan?"

Clary nodded, her heart leaped into her throat and buried the words within her. "I'm sure," she croaked.

Simon sighed. "Look, Clary, your brother is dangerous. I don't know why you think you should try and confront him."

"He's behind these Shadowhunter killings, I'm sure of it."

"I thought he was dead," mused Simon.

"I don't know how to explain it," Clary replied, "but I have this… feeling in my heart that he's still alive."

"Twin telepathy."

"We're not twins," said Clary. "And I really hope its not telepathy. The last thing I need is Jonathan Morgenstern's voice in my head." She shuddered.

"No one in your family is very good at staying dead." Simon mused, wistfully.

"Are you in or not?" Clary interrupted impatiently. They reached the end of the street and stood waiting for the light to turn green.

"Why didn't you bring this to one of the others?" Simon asked curiously. "I mean wouldn't Jace be a better choice if you're going to hunt someone as dangerous as Sebastian down?"

"I can't bring this to Jace, you know that," whispered Clary. "He's…It'll only bring back painful memories for the rest of them. Besides, I want to be one hundred percent sure before I report this."

"Well, its not like I've got much else to do," muttered Simon sarcastically.

Clary beamed. "So how are things with Maia going?" She asked curiously. The light had finally turned green and they shuffled across the street.

"I don't know," Simon replied. "I'm not really feeling anything."

Clary raised an eyebrow. "You're dating a really hot girl and you don't…feel anything?"

Simon shrugged.

"Maybe you're gay."

"Maybe," Simon said, snorting. "Maia's nice and she's a great friend and all, but I don't know if there's anything more there."

Clary turned suddenly horrified. "You're not…you're not still _in love_ with me, are you?" She asked.

Simon tried not to feel too offended. "No!" He spluttered. "Besides, you've got like, the hottest of boyfriends."

"Don't tell Jace that or his head will get even bigger than it already is."

Simon snorted. "I didn't know it could get any larger." He quipped. This felt nice, joking around with Clary, it felt…normal. Even if things were incredibly far from normal.

Suddenly, Simon stiffened, he could smell a scent in the air that reminded him of sickly sweet decay with a hint of something hard and bitter. Simon wrinkled his nose, just as his sensitive ears picked up the sound of footsteps a ways behind them. He realized how dark it'd gotten and a sudden feeling of unease crept into Simon's heart. He could feel his fangs slide out of their sheaths in anticipation of a fight. "Clary," Simon said softly, his words slightly muffled by his teeth. She spun around, her smile fading when she saw his face, saw the white gleam of his teeth in the moonlight.

"What's wrong?" She asked anxiously.

"I think that suicidal plan of yours found us." Simon said.

And sure enough, striding casually down the street towards them, as if he had all the time in the world, was Sebastian.

* * *

A/N

A few things:

Shoutout to Beth, my wonderful reviewer, who actually motivated me to start writing this again. :) speaking of which...do you guys prefer frequent but crappy updates or infrequent but quality updates? because I have a strict policy of not updating unless its at least vaguely polished. and one of my criteria for polished is a minimum of 6 pages on word. This chapter actually breaks that rule (its like 4 pages) but when I checked the word count this actually had more words than my previous chapters...and it did end in a nice place so I thought, what the heck why not?

Let me clarify a few things:

So here's the part in the story where all the characters split up and have their own little adventures that ultimately all connect to the main plot (but they don't know that until the end). I noticed that's something Cassandra Clare does in her stories. And Alec and Jace are paired for their little adventure! :) I love those two...they should really have more interaction in the actual novel...because I mean, even though they're parabatai...they don't ever hang out and have crazy adventures together in the real books! (FYI Alec calls Jace a "Byronic Hero" which for those of you who don't know is a type of character in literature. These characters are male, sexually attractive, powerful, intelligent, but socially they isolate themselves because of something traumatic that happened in their past. It really describes Jace almost perfectly, so I thought I'd include that little tidbit).

I hope you guys aren't too upset that I included an OC. I totally understand, (I'm not a big fan of OC's either) but I hope you'll give Jacob a chance! I'll try to make him have as little overall impact as possible because I really do believe in sticking to canon. but I needed Jacob to propel the plot forwards, give Izzy some character development, and a plot so she'd have something to do while everyone else saves the world and stuff. If any of you know a little bit about the history of the name Jacob you could probably guess what's going to happen with him, .

And finally, I recently wrote a ClaryXJace AU oneshot called _Ever _and I would love it if you guys took a look at that. :D Thanks for reading!


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